26th January
by BookwormKiwi
Summary: Chase invites Cameron home to celebrate his national holiday. Slight ChaseCam
1. Part 1

January 26th

A/N: To my fellow Australians (and everyone else, too, I guess), happy Australia Day!

* * *

Part 1

"Hey, Cameron," Chase said, Tuesday evening, as Cameron packed away her laptop, ready to leave. "Can I have a word before you go?"

She nodded, and swung her bag over her shoulder. As they left the room, they didn't notice Foreman's eyes follow them out.

"It's the 26th on Thursday," Chase said, looking expectantly at Cameron. Cameron was blank, staring back at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Australia Day."

Cameron's eyes lit up for a second in understanding, but then faded back to its prior confused stance.

"So why are you telling me this?" Cameron asked. "I mean, I understand _why_, but why here? I mean, why not in the office? Why alone?"

"Well, I was kinda wondering…" Chase paused for a second. "See, when I was back in Australia, the 26th was always a fun family and friends event. Not as big as Christmas, but still big enough to have heaps of fun. For the last few years, I…I've missed tradition."

Cameron crossed her arms reproachfully, though smiling all the same.

"Oh, that's what this is about."

"What?"

"You're planning a party, but you didn't want to invite Foreman, so you had to drag me out here to-"

"No, that's not what I'm saying," Chase said, his lips smiling, but his eyes gazing intently at Cameron.

"So, what are you saying?"

"I just wondered if you wanted to come over for a drink," Chase mumbled, feeling suddenly shy. "And maybe dinner, if you want."

"Sure, that sounds great."

Chase was all ready to convince her to come, but he wasn't expecting her to agree so quickly.

"Really? Uh…" Chase quickly scribbled out his address on the back of his business card. "Here. Is 6 a good time for you?"

Cameron took his card. She glanced over the address. "Sure."

"Or if you like, I can drive you home after work," he offered.

Cameron took a moment to decide, then nodded appreciatively. "Thanks. I'll get a taxi in."

"Uh, I could…drive you in, too, if you like."

"It's ok, Chase," Cameron declined good-naturedly. "I can take a taxi."

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"You ready?" Chase shrugged on his coat, glad that Foreman had already gone.

Cameron nodded and grabbed her bag. They walked out in silence, Chase risking a glance at Cameron every now and then, but she was staring straight ahead.

They reached his car, and the doors beeped as he unlocked the car doors. Cameron couldn't help laughing when Chase opened the passenger door for her, and made a big show of bowing her in.

"Oh, very nice."

Chase grinned as he climbed in his own seat.

"Not as nice as House's motorbike, though," Cameron commented off-handedly, and Chase stiffened. Though he agreed, it was like a sharp stick, coming from Cameron.

"Ah, Chase!" Cameron chortled. "You've got to be kidding, scariest thing _ever_, I was holding onto House so tight!"

Chase reluctantly smiled at Cameron's gentle teasing.

"Let's go," he said, putting his foot down.

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When they reached Chase's house, Cameron climbed out of the car, fairly rattled.

"Whoa." Her hand shook in Chase's, as he helped her out of the car. "If I knew you drove like that, I wouldn't have taken up your offer."

"What's wrong with the way I drive?" Chase demanded indignantly.

"Oh, nothing." Cameron smoothed her shirt down agitatedly. "It just reminds me of Schumaker."

"Aw, come on, not that bad," Chase protested.

"Yeah," Cameron nodded. "That bad. At least I had the seat belt to hold onto, instead of you."

"Maybe I should invest in a motorbike," Chase mused, leading Cameron up to his front door.

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"Want a drink?" Chase took off his jacket and threw it over the back of a chair. Cameron followed him in tentatively.

"Sure. Just water."

"Sit," he offered, walking into the kitchen to get glasses for them both.

Cameron sat on the edge of Chase's sofa. He came out and handed her the water.

"I haven't cooked, I-"

"Can't cook?" Cameron finished innocently. Chase opened his mouth to retort resentfully, but decided he had to agree.

"Well, no, that wasn't what I was going to say," Chase returned, "though it's true. No, my family would always cook together. My dad, my uncle, and my grandad all use to stand round the barbecue, and cook. Almost everyone would come around at some point and give the sausages a turn.

"Now, it's about 40º, so I'm not so keen to get out there, and I was thinking pasta?"

"Sure. I love pasta. I'll help you cook it."

"Great. I was counting on that."

Cameron gave him an amused look, and got up. Chase took out a packet of spiral-shaped pasta out of his pantry, and held it up.

"This do?"

"I'm happy if you're happy."

"And I'm happy." Chase gave an embellished smile to prove his statement, and Cameron yanked the pasta packet vigorously out of his hands.

"You got bolognaise sauce?"

Chase hadn't thought to think of that.

"Uh…"

"Chase," Cameron rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "We'll have to make some."

Cameron laughed at his pained expression.

"It's ok," she amended. "I'll do it. You have mince?"

Chase had no idea whether he had mince or not. His home-helper, she called herself, Anna, bought his groceries for him.

"Maybe. It'd be in the fridge, I guess."

"You guess? How can you not know what's in your fridge?"

"I don't…" Chase paused, wondering whether to tell her, then decided that he couldn't be bothered to lie. "I don't stock my fridge."

Cameron just raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

"Well, let's have a look." She walked over to the fridge, opened it up, scanned the contents, and pulled a few items out.

"Alright, got a saucepan?"

"Uh…"

Cameron didn't seem surprised. She opened a few cupboards until she found what she was looking for. Chase watched her from siting on the kitchen counter.

"You sure you know what you're doing?"

Cameron didn't answer, but gave him a look which said clearly, _Shut up, or you won't get any_.

"I know you're incompetent in the kitchen," Cameron said, mockingly innocent. "But come here. I think you might be capable of stirring the sauce."

* * *

A/N: I was intending this to be a one-shot, but it got a bit long, so I split it. 


	2. Part 2

A/N: Here we go. The end. And it truly is Australia Day in America now. I mean...it's the 26th now. I posted the first part on the 25th, _your_ 25th, my 26th. Anyway.

* * *

Part 2

Chase marvelled at her very quick cooking. She had just converted half a kilo of mince, an onion, and a couple of tomatoes into pasta sauce in less than five minutes.

She stood behind him, and placed a spoon in his hand. She held his right arm, guiding it gently.

"Stir," she murmured tauntingly. Chase was enjoying himself too much to be annoyed.

"There," she said, letting go of him and stepping back, and Chase couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. "Knew you could do it."

Cameron busied herself with the salad, while Chase continued stirring, not entirely sure that that was all he was supposed to be doing.

"So, how _do_ you eat?" Cameron ran the water over a tomato.

"I have…hired help," Chase replied. "Smells good."

He peered into the steaming pot. He was glad Cameron didn't choose to comment on his statement, or when he jumped back, rubbing his eyes, though he thought he detected a slight snigger.

"So what exactly is Australia Day all about?" Cameron asked.

"The First Fleet landed on Australia Day," Chase replied, still blinking, trying to get rid of the vapour in his eyes. "Wait, I mean…they landed on the 26th of January, so they dubbed it Australia Day." He paused. "I guess. I don't know, I never really paid attention in history."

He'd stopped paying attention to the sauce, too.

"Hey, watch it!" Cameron hurried over, and took over Chase's post. She stirred it lightly. "There we go; you didn't hurt it too much."

Chase watched her guiltily for a moment, before deciding to make amends by preparing the rest of the salad.

That he could do. He sliced the cucumber expertly, and threw them carelessly into a bowl. He segmented the tomatoes, and put them in. He peeled a few lettuce leaves, and added them to the mixture. He picked up the bowl to take to the table in the dining room, but when he turned around, almost dropped it when he came face to face with Cameron, who grinned at his shocked expression.

"Done. Do you want me to take that?"

Without waiting for an answer, she seized the bowl from Chase's loose grip. He was still recovering from his heart attack.

"The pasta's ready, too."

Chase hadn't even realised she'd started boiling it, but he supposed it was because he was too busy concentrating on stirring the sauce. He shut his eyes, trying to block out that thought. It wasn't a particularly ego-satisfying one.

"That was quick."

"Yeah, I was surprised, too, actually," Cameron replied. Chase thought he'd better do something useful, as he hadn't done much at all for the past few minutes. He went over to the drawer and got out a pair of knives and forks, and lay them down beside the plates Cameron had put out. He wondered how she had done it all in, really, under 10 minutes. It was almost scary.

Chase motioned for her to sit down, rather than attempting to tidy up the kitchen area. He poured out a glass of red wine for them both; he had always been told that with Italian, it had to be red.

He brought them to the table, and placed one glass in front of Cameron as he sat opposite her.

"Bon apetite," he said.

"Well, really, for this kind of meal, it should be _Bene_ apetite," Cameron countered with a serious look, and Chase felt immediately uncomfortable. But Cameron was pulling his leg…again. Her face lightened instantly, as she smirked.

"So how did you cook so fast?" Chase asked after he had finished a mouthful. "And so good?"

"I actually _do_ cook for myself," Cameron answered. "And when I was a kid, I was forced to help out. My sister and I took turns. I suppose it would've been easier if we did it together." Cameron kept eating, looking thoughtful.

"But I guess it was worth it," she continued. "When I left home, I could make dinner, no problem."

"Why'd you have to cook?" Chase posed, stabbing at the pasta.

"Don't know. I suppose Mom knew it was worth it, too!" Cameron laughed. "At first, we hated it. Helen refused to do it for a while, but gave up once Mom stopped feeding her. It got easier," she shrugged off.

"I never really got the chance," Chase said quietly. "After Dad left, I tried to look after my mum for a while, but I couldn't really handle it. I was only 15." Chase didn't know why he was telling Cameron, but it felt pretty relieving to tell someone. "I got my grandparents to help me. They basically took me in, and kept an eye on her. They weren't very careful," Chase added moodily.

Cameron didn't speak, but silently cleared her plate. Chase finished his meal, too, and Cameron tried to take his plate, but he stopped her.

"My house, my mess, my job to clean up."

"Let me help."

"Not yet," Chase entreated. "We haven't had dessert."

Cameron hesitated before sitting down again.

"Ok," she agreed warily. "What's-"

"Stay," he ordered. He walked over to the freezer, pulling out a box from inside, and placing it upon the kitchen counter. He had asked Anna to find this for him. Something nicely Australian.

Pulling out a knife and plates, he began humming quietly. He opened the box and felt entirely…deflated. Just like the Pavlova looked. Completely flat.

Frantically, Chase opened the fridge, not quite sure if he'd find anything helpful. His eyes flicked over the contents: milk, cheese, bread, more milk, a bunch of carrots, a jug of water, another bottle of milk – he should really talk to Anna about that – a few tubs of yoghurt, condiments…

Chase had a sudden idea. He closed the fridge, and instead, opened up the freezer. Ice cream.

Chase took out the cream, uncertain as to whether it'd do the job, but felt desperate enough to try anything. He grabbed a bowl from a cupboard, and hastily scooped out half the container into it. He then took the flat Pavlova, and placed it on top. It looked…ok, Chase thought, adding a few extra strawberries to it.

With a last aggrieved look at the dessert, he brought it to the table, along with the appropriate tableware.

He put on a smile for Cameron, struggling to look as if everything were going according to plan.

"Australian Pavlova," Chase announced, trying not to see Cameron's puzzled face.

"I thought the Kiwis invented Pavlova," Cameron commented.

"That's what they say."

He cut a wedge for Cameron, and another for himself, trying to keep the Pavlova pancake on top of the ice cream.

"There you go," he said. "What do I say to this? Dig in?"

"I wouldn't know," Cameron responded. "Never been to Australia."

"You've never been? Oh, you should," Chase goaded. "Best place in the world. You could come with me sometime."

Cameron either didn't have an answer to that, or found Chase's 'Pavlova' really good – or the opposite - , because she didn't reply.

They ate without speech for a bit, before Cameron enquired,

"Why so much ice cream?"

Chase had to laugh at that, and then was inclined to tell her the tale, and he entertained Cameron thoroughly with that.

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"_Now_ I'll help you," Cameron insisted after they'd had a cup of coffee each, talking about their current case. She got up, and retrieved all the plates. Chase knew there was no stopping her. He picked up the unfinished salad, and took it out to the kitchen.

"You're very proficient," Chase commented. Cameron had already run water into the sink, and had begun scrubbing the metal pot that had been used for the sauce.

"I'm used to it. Come and dry for me."

Chase caught the tea towel Cameron threw at him, and grabbed a wet plate that was stacked on the draining board.

"Geez, you're quick." She was. She'd washed and rinsed at least half of what needed to be done. "Don't you own a dishwasher?"

"I live alone, Chase," Cameron replied scathingly. "And I spend half my life at the hospital."

"That can change," Chase announced pensively.

"You think House is going to cut my hours just because I ask him?"

"No, I meant you don't always have to live alone." Chase put down the dry plate. The dishes were piling up; Cameron was washing a lot faster than Chase was drying. Cameron stopped scrubbing, and turned to him.

"What are you saying?" she asked coyly.

"That you're not doomed to a life of solitude," Chase replied. "Pass that thing."

"It's called a _spoon_," she grinned, tossing it at him. He caught it, but only just.

"What was-"

"You can catch anything House throws at you."

Chase opened his mouth to speak, but-

"So you don't cook _at all_?"

"What?" Chase placed the spoon on the counter beside him.

"You don't even know what a _spoon_ is," she teased.

"Doesn't mean I don't cook." Chase took a knife, which looked already half dry; it had been sitting for a while. "I just…don't know what all the things are called."

Cameron smiled.

"You've never cooked."

"I…made a cake once," Chase shrugged. Cameron shook her head, laughing softly.

"You," - she threw a wet cloth at him, and he ducked - "are doomed to a life of never being able to choose what goes on your plate."

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"Ah, look at the time," Cameron cried, after they'd put away the remaining dishes. When Cameron had finished, she had to get another towel and help Chase dry.

"I'll drive you home," Chase offered. Cameron quaked visibly, but nodded. Chase couldn't help but notice that she had paled noticeably.

"I'll go slow," he insisted. Cameron smiled appreciatively, and took her coat from where she had left it earlier.

"Alright."

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"Tonight was fun." Cameron giggled as she opened her door, and stood on the threshold. "I didn't know you could make coffee. I would've let you do it for House, otherwise."

"That's exactly why I didn't _let _you know," Chase confided. "I don't _want_ to make coffee for House."

Cameron laughed. "See, I knew there was a reason House wanted me back. Coffee."

Chase joined in her mirth for a while, then they both regained their breath and sensibility.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Guess you will."

"It's my turn, next time," Cameron announced, moving further into her apartment. Chase resisted the urge to follow her in.

"Next time?" he prompted hopefully, but frowned. "Next…Australia Day?"

"No!" Cameron exclaimed, and Chase released his doubts. "You've got to join me for 4th of July."

* * *

A/N: Alrighty, that part was a bit warped in the middle, I really wasn't sure what I was doing there. Probably due to listening to my friend's ideas…that never goes down well!

And there we go, time wise, it was completely out of sync, sorry, couldn't help that. Well, actually, I could, but I couldn't think of enough small talk to last a couple of hours, so…

What are tea towels called in America? Dish cloths? Well, they're in Chase's house, all his tea towels are Australian.


End file.
